So sorry for the writers' block, and for real life coming in and interfering; but it's back at last! This chapter was a tough one to write, and the longest so far, but finally managed to push through and get it posted at long last. Once again, this is JKR's world, and these are her characters, not mine; all credit goes to her. And I'd be really grateful for a review or two, or even just a bit of feedback or criticism via PM. Anyone? Anybody at all?
Chapter 4: Breaking the News
Four minutes and forty-eight seconds later, Severus Snape surveyed the Durmstrang ship's mess deck, and had to begrudgingly admit that the young man, Reuchlin, had somehow managed NOT to make a complete and utter hash of the task he'd been assigned. True, not everyone had emerged from their living quarters- a fair few stragglers were still emerging from the side doors even now, and clumsily shuffling across to join their fellow students at the long table. And the less said about their current states of decor, garb and presentation the better; a visible minority were still in their nightclothes. But according to his own tally, with a total of thirty-nine people in the Durmstrang delegation excluding Viktor Krum, there were only six latecomers who hadn't yet come out, to join the others in the mess deck and take their seats at the long table. And most importantly, given his concealed main purpose in coming here, none of those six absentees were girls- all seventeen members of the delegation's female constituent were now here, including the elder of his two new charges.
While Reuchlin may have failed to get everyone out in the alloted time, he'd only failed by a hair's breadth, and not for lack of trying- he'd certainly earned an Exceeds Expectations grade, and in a different time and place, in private, commendations might have been in order. However, right here, and right now, all he could allow himself to offer was a lack of scathing criticism, limiting his response to casting a brief, dismissive glare in the young man's direction. Respect had to be maintained, as did reputations and appearances, and keeping one's word. When he said what he'd come here to say, there couldn't be any grounds upon which to doubt the truth of his words- he'd said five minutes, and he meant five minutes; those five minutes had now passed, and he wasn't showing weakness by waiting any longer. That time was up, and it was time to begin.
"Alright, everyone, settle down. Silence... Shut up. SHUT, UP. Til sist gang, HOLD KJEFT! Ja, ja, jeg forstår. Jeg forstår det veldig godt. And I know full well that all of you other students understand what I'm saying as well, so silence yourselves, or I'll silence the lot of you myself, do I make myself clear? Now then..."
"Where is Viktor? Why isn't he here? He should be here- what has happened? He isn't- he couldn't be..."
"He could very well have been, but so far as I know, he is not. I'd presume that Mr. Krum would still be in the hospital wing- it appears that he was placed under the Imperius Curse before entering the maze for the third task, and they weren't sure if..."
"Vot? Zey did VOT?! No vonder he did not vin- he vos sabotaged!"
Oh, great. Here we go... Severus rolled his eyes, resisting the overwhelming urge to kill off this utterly pointless and trivial tangent in its infancy by hexing the lot of them into silence, and held his tongue in the hope that it'd peter out soon enough. But it didn't- it continued to build more and more momentum, as more and more of the Durmstrang students were swept up in the outcry, getting riled up along with the others and adding their own voices to that of the mob.
"Zis, zis is an outrage!"
"An Unforgivable, performed on our Champion! By one of yours, no doubt..."
"Ve, ve must do de tournament again, re-run de task, but fairly this time..."
"How long before? How long had Krum been placed under it...?"
"It vos Hermoninny Granger, wasn't it! WASN'T IT? I knew, I KNEW IT! Why else vould Viktor leave ME for HER, for that Mudblood hussy...?!"
That last voice, a high-pitched caterwaul which cut through all of the rest like the sound of McGonagall's animagus' claws scratching across a chalkboard, eroded away what little scant patience he'd been able to muster in the space of a mere couple of seconds. Unable to stand the unholy din any longer, Severus rose from his chair, slamming his fists down on the table and turning his glare on the guilty party- Viktor Krum's former girlfriend, from the sounds of things. "ENOUGH! There will be no more interruptions! Now- who are you, girl...?"
The tall, glamoured-up strawberry-blonde brashly returned his glare, as hard as she could, but there wasn't much in there to see. Right now, she was too consumed by her cockamamie theory and her imaginings to give him too much of a glimpse of anything else; and quite clearly, this girl was as dense as a brick. Please, PLEASE don't let that be her, don't let that be Natalia, I don't think I could cope... "I am Rada, Rada Asparukh. And do not try to deny it! Her, and Harry Potter- it must have been them, working together! You, you cannot cover for them...!"
Oh, thank you sweet Merlin... Breathing a heavy sigh of relief in spite of himself, Severus just about managed to catch himself before it had a chance to escape his mouth, and to turn it into a derisory snort of derision. "Hmph. No, Miss Asparukh, much as I'm grudged to admit it, neither Granger nor Potter were involved in that particular misdeed."
"You lie! She had to have! Viktor...!"
"Krum was only Imperiused for less than an hour. By an escapee from Azkaban who has already been caught. Clearly, Krum simply found Miss Granger's company far more intellectually stimulating than your own. Quite possibly, Granger may have offered him more stimulation that you were ever capable of offering him, in a few other regards as well. Frankly, I couldn't care less."
Knocked for six, Asparukh gaped like a fish, her eyes bulging wide open in shock and dismay. Severus turned away, closing his eyes, but not quickly enough to avoid getting a nauseating glimpse of the girl's sordid imaginings. A putrid mess of imaginary scenes, all of which featured Krum engaged in sexual activities with a warped, barely recognisable version of Hermione Granger- one so slutty, filthy and perverted that her lurid actions would have been enough to convert even Rita Skeeter into an Unspeakable on the matter. That, along with the sniggering of more than a couple of the other Durmstrang students at the spectacle Asparukh was making of herself, left a sour taste in his mouth. Snape slammed a fist down on the table again, restoring near-silence once more.
"NOW, then- if you're all done? I'm afraid that I don't care in the slightest about the Triwizard Tournament's non-result. No-one does, not any more. And in all likelihood, unless Madame Maxime's elected to keep her own lot in the dark, you'll be the last students here who haven't been made aware of what truly happened last night. Well, most of you, in any case. I'm absolutely certain that a fair few of you already know full well what happened, what it is that I'm here to inform the rest of you of."
Slowly, deliberately, Snape turned to fix his gaze upon one of the boys sitting on the left, toward the far end of the table. Who he'd spotted out of the corner of his eye, visibly shuddering at the very mention of last night, and whose heavy build, rugged features, palamino-colored hair and atrociously gnarly teeth immediately rang a bell. "Isn't that right. What's your name, boy? You. Yes, you. Out with it..."
"Boris D-Dolohov, sir."
"Oh, yes. You most certainly will know exactly what I'm talking about, Dolohov. Would you care to enlighten any of the rest of your schoolmates?"
"I, I... I see nothing, I hear nothing, I know nothing..."
"That much is visibly apparent for all to see. Anyway, I'm here to remedy that, and to fully inform you in your Headmaster's unfortunate absence. Now then- I'm utterly certain that all of you Durmstrang students will be infinitely more well-versed in the History of Magic than the students here at Hogwarts, but even so, perhaps it would be best to start with a little refresher. You should all still remember the events which took place at last year's Quidditch World Cup, I imagine? After the final trophy presentation, during the subsequent celebrations? The site's security had either been infiltrated or comprised, and was over-run by a large group of wizards and witches inclined towards the darkness, and with ill intent toward many of those in attendance. One of those wizards fired a spell skywards to create a large symbol, one which triggered the descent of the crowd into sheer panic, fear and chaos. This symbol, in fact."
Severus brandished his wand, casting his thoughts back to Karkaroff's last living moment, to his freshest and clearest memory of killing; then, in the proper mental state required to do so, he silently cast the spell which he hated more than any other, making an effort to hold it in check and keep it as small as he could for as long as possible. Morsmordre... A miniature version of The Dark Mark, the symbol of Lord Voldemort, erupted from the end of his wand. He'd seen this spell, seen that glittering green skull with a snake protruding from its mouth being conjured far too many times, more than he could count. But he'd only had to cast it himself on five occasions, back in the day. This, right now, was the sixth. No-one outside this room would see it, and no-one else besides himself would ever know, but this, this was the Mark which marked the passing of Igor Karkaroff. The first thing he noticed was that while a fair few of the Durmstrang students reacted in the same way that Hogwarts' students would have done, recoiling from it in fear and terror, most of them didn't react with anything more than mere curiousity. And a couple of them looked completely indifferent, perhaps even bored.
Even the Hogwarts students, though, didn't know the true implications of casting the Morsmordre spell, one of the spells invented by The Dark Lord himself. Only those who'd been initiated into the Death Eaters, and precious few others, knew that the spell could only be cast by those who'd killed someone in cold blood. And so far as he knew, no-one alive besides himself, Dumbledore and Caradoc Dearborn- and of course, its creator Lord Voldemort- had any knowledge as to the true nature of the spell. Morsmordre wasn't just some parlor trick spell, didn't have the sole purpose of raising a luminescent banner for the Dark Lord. Instead, the Morsmordre spell displayed the totemic symbol of the cause that the caster had killed in the name of. He'd only witnessed Dumbledore's Morsmordre for an instant, and it hadn't fully formed, but it had looked like the figure of a young girl, and had been a shimmering, ethereal white colour, almost like that of a ghost. As for Dearborn's Morsmordre, the last spell he'd ever been witnessed casting according to the now long-dead Death Eater who'd gone up against him on that night, it had purportedly been the flaming vermillion symbol of the Order of the Phoenix. As indeed those of so many other members of the Order would undoubtedly be, if they were brave enough to try casting the spell for themselves.
Severus' thoughts turned to the retired Auror who'd been kept tied up and locked up inside Karkaroff's impromptu coffin for the past year, perhaps the worst offender of them all among the Order. Alastor Moody proudly bragged about how he'd slaughtered over a hundred Death Eaters, when in reality, his tally of actual, marked Death Eaters only stood at a meager eleven. The only reason Moody's own count was so high was because the sadistic bastard had counted each and every person who'd he had ever suspected of having ever fraternized with a Death Eater as being Death Eaters themselves, and dispatched them as if they had been, without hesitation and without remorse. Friends and families- brothers and sisters, parents and children... Several of the Durmstrang students flinched, with some raising their hands to shield their eyes, as the glittering green miniature Dark Mark he was holding suddenly flared up from the surge of hatred washing over him, brightly enough to cast shadows and silhouettes on the walls. Up until he'd heard that story, he'd hated Dearborn's guts nearly as much as Moody's. But since he'd heard about that though, and figured out why it was that Dearborn had gone AWOL and disappeared without trace, he'd had nothing but respect for the man, perhaps even a hint of admiration. At least there had been one member of the Order who'd realised that Dark Acts committed in the name of the Light were still Dark, regardless of their oh-so-noble cause...
Realising he'd held the dramatic pause for a shade too long, Severus cleared his throat, dispelled his Morsmordre spell and continued his speech. "That particular symbol, is known as 'The Dark Mark'. It is the totemic symbol of the most powerful Dark Lord in living memory, and was magically engraved into all those who were inducted into his fold, the Death Eaters, binding them to him as his loyal followers and supporters during the initial peak of his strength and influence. I have encyclopedic knowledge of the Durmstrang curriculum, so if you're not completely incompetent and hopeless students, each and every one of you will all have intricate, detailed knowledge of Taboo Magic, and of the guiding principles behind it. So, let us put The Dark Lord's sheer magical potency into perspective- Gellert Grindelwald himself placed a Taboo upon someone's else's name at one point during the Great Wizarding War, expending a great deal of energy in the process, and that taboo's range extended across most of continental Europe. This Dark Lord, He Who Must Not Be Named? The magical Taboo invoked by speaking his name extended, not just across Europe, but enveloped the entire surface of the globe. This bears testament to just how all-encompassing the power and magical dominion of The Dark Lord truly was.
"Nonetheless, some fourteen years ago, he met a downfall of sorts, when he attempted to kill an insignificant infant, whose parents had defied him. He killed that little boy's parents with consummate ease, just as he'd already effortlessly killed hundreds of other wizards and witches. But for some unknown, unfathomable reason, his own killing curse rebounded upon him instead, leaving the infant almost entirely unharmed. The Dark Lord's lifeless body was brought in front of the Wizengamot for all to see, burnt to ashes and placed in a consecrated jar, which was then tossed through into a dark abyss from which nothing can return. And so, the infant was touted as the messianic saviour who saved all of Wizard-kind from the 'evil forces of darkness'. This infant was, of course, 'The Boy Who Lived'. Harry Potter, the only person in recorded history who has ever been independently verified to have survived being struck directly by a Killing Curse.
"Or, at the very least, he was, until yesterday's events. But now, we all know better. There was indeed another who achieved the same feat. He did so on the same fateful night that Potter did- and now, The Dark Lord has restored himself to become more powerful than he ever was, and has returned to finish what he started. Cedric Diggory, the rightful Hogwarts Champion and victor of the Triwizard Tournament, was murdered yesterday, by his command. And at least one other Wizard has already shared the same fate; another wizard with whom you would all have been far more closely acquainted than Diggory. But one of you, in particular, will have been more closely acquainted with this wizard than any of the rest. And I ask that this individual accompany me back to the castle immediately. There are- certain matters, which need to be discussed privately, which we need to resolve as swiftly as possible. Miss Natalia Vahyah Karkaroff?"
Almost as one, the Durmstrang students (including the last three latecomers, who'd come in through one of the side doors in the past minute or so) took a deep, sharp intake of breath- a wave of whispering swept across the deck. Then, as they muttered themselves into silence, each and every one of them turned their attentions to one girl in particular, sitting towards the middle of the long table on the left side. The only one among them who was still sitting there, just as still and as silent as she'd been at the start, and hadn't so much as fidgeted. Stepping away from his place at the head of the long table where he'd been standing up until now, Severus skirted around the main group, making his way towards the door which led to the Durmstrang ship's main boarding ramp. Turning back around, tapping his foot in mock impatience, he at last had an unimpeded view, allowing him to take a good, long look at the elder of the two girls who'd been unfortunate enough to find themselves entrusted into his custody. At Natalia.
The first thing which struck him about the Finnish girl was that she was rather small in stature, certainly for her age. Perhaps the smallest student in the entire Durmstrang delegation. Short enough to be obscured by the throng of students who were huddling in around her, even when she slowly, shakily rose from her seat at the table and got to her feet. The girl looked to be barely 5 feet tall, if that, with a delicate build. And the second thing that struck him was how many uncanny similarities there were between her features and his own. Natalia's hair was raven-black, the exact same color as his own, and hung in long, wavy curtains around her face, down to her shoulders, just as his did. Unlike his though, hers was far smoother and silkier, better kept and better treated. Well, obviously- any treatment at all would make her hair 'better treated' than his own. But well-kept by anyone's standards. Likewise, her skin was pretty much the exact same tone as his own, but whereas his own skin was in relatively poor condition, hers was in perfect condition, soft, smooth and completely unblemished. As she turned towards him, and made her way across to the door by which he stood, allowing him to catch a glimpse of her eyes for the first time, Severus saw that even Natalia's irises were the same color as his own; almost perfectly black, pitch-dark and nearly as featureless as her pupils.
As a near-Master of Legilimency, he could count the number of people who could hold up against the full scrutiny of his gaze on the digits of one hand. It required a lifetime's work to gain the kind of control over one's impulsive thoughts and emotions needed to stand up to it without letting at least a few samples of their immediate thoughts slip. He's honed the skill to the extent where he was capable of effortlessly getting a read on the immediate thoughts and feelings of every single student at Hogwarts; being the boisterous and undisciplined youths that they were, their minds were like open books. These Durmstrang students were no different; slightly more of a challenge than the typical Hogwarts student, but still not much more so than the average Slytherin. And in such circumstances as these, no matter how good she may have been at masking them, he'd have expected her emotions to be leaking out of her like water out of a sieve.
But as Natalia approached the door, stood there in front of him and craned her neck upwards to make eye contact with him for the first time, staring up into his eyes, Severus suddenly found himself locked out, unable to glean even a single drop more through passive methods. An impressive feat, at any time; but at a time such as this, given the emotional blow she'd just suffered? Inconceivable. It wasn't her uncanny natural gift for Occlumency that took Severus aback though, caught him off guard and nearly left him lost for words. It was the tiny glimpse of what he had seen, the few specks he'd managed to pick up in the split second before she'd slammed the door to her mental workings in his face. It hadn't been much, but it had been enough for him to tell that there was definitely something that wasn't quite right here. The tone of her thoughts, and the color shift of her emotional spectrum, had been way off, all over the place…
"My h- Headmaster, my Patriarch, Igor- he is dead? Murdered?" Natalia asked, softly, quietly. She was still looking up into his eyes, holding eye contact with him, not blinking any more or less than was perfectly natural. Her tone was neutral, her expression as unreadable as her eyes and her mind were. He'd caught enough to realize that there was a maelstrom of emotion surging through her, and he knew from personal experience that her head must be spinning by now from the effort of keeping it all in check. If he looked close enough, Severus could spot the signs, see that she was a tad less steady on her feet now than she had been when she'd been walking over from the table, but outwardly, she wasn't letting even a trace of her emotion show through. And looking down into her eyes, returning her gaze, Snape found himself starting to feel increasingly unsteady and light-headed as well, trying to maintain his own façade against the storm-surge of guilt welling up inside of him. For both her sake and his own, they needed to get going, now.
Breaking off eye contact, Severus swept back around to face the rest of the students in the Durmstrang delegation, clearing away the non-existent lump in his throat and addressing them all in a voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well now, I believe that I've said what needs to be said here, told you all that you need to know for the time being. And those of you who haven't yet worked out who I'm talking about, I'd only be wasting my time by trying to get it through your thick heads. Dumbledore will no doubt have his own speech planned for the impending Leaving Feast, and I'm sure it'll be very inspirational and motivational, so I'll leave that to him. You're all dismissed; nonetheless, I'd advise those of you in a less presentable state to go back to your quarters, and make more of an effort before venturing out. Good day…"
Dismissing them all with a sweep of his hand, not taking a second look in their direction even as he could hear the Durmstrang students starting to rise from their seats at the table and eagerly engage in conversations with one another about the little chat he'd just had with them all, Severus started to reach for his wand pocket. Then thought better of it, remembering what had happened earlier, and elected to err on the side of caution, pushing the boarding ramp's door open with his hand instead. Holding it open for her, he turned back to face Natalia again, lowering his voice so that only she'd be able to hear, and adopting a gentler, more genuine tone. "Come, Natalia. If there's anything you need, you can come back for it later, or someone can be sent back to get it for you. Now, though, we need to leave."
Standing there beside him, illuminated by the morning sun shining in through the open doorway, with her fur cloak billowing out behind her in the breeze, Natalia hesitated for a moment. Closed her eyes for a moment, before opening them again. Then, clasping her hands, and offering a silent nod, stepped through with him. Together, they descended the boarding ramp, and left the Durmstrang Ship behind.
That silence had now gone on for a fair bit longer than he'd thought it would, Severus thought, as he set about deactivating each of the brand-new amped-up magical wards he'd put in place earlier, to protect his study from any further unwanted intrusions. Natalia was standing there a couple of steps behind him, in the corridor. The small Finnish girl hadn't uttered a word over the course of the long walk back here from the ship. With her in tow, he'd taken the conventional route, back through Hogsmeade, as opposed to going back the same way he'd came earlier. And by the time he'd descended the staircase into the dungeons- docking points from a couple of his own sixth-years in passing, knowing that the two of them were heading off with the intention of sharing a broom closet together- he'd been seriously contemplating whether it had been worthwhile enduring the excruciatingly uncomfortable silence for so long, or whether he'd have been better off just sharing the secret of his Fidelius-protected residence back in the village with her straight away, and going to have this chat in there instead. Even now, even with all the new wards, he didn't feel completely comfortable having this chat with Natalia here- there was a niggling voice in the back of his head telling him that the walls of Hogwarts had eyes and ears, and that all of them reported to the Headmaster, to Albus.
Still, never mind. He was, they were, here now. And now- Severus finished deactivating the last of the magical wards, pushing the door open and walking back into his study- it was time to deal with the matter at hand. Plonking himself down in his seat, behind his desk, Severus watched as his other brand-new Magical Ward, of a very different shape and form, followed him in, maintaining her distance, poise and silence. Using his wand to close the door behind her, going through the motions and muttering the incantations under his breath to reactivate the wards on it, he raised an eyebrow as Natalia remained standing in the middle of his study, in front of his desk. Her face still wasn't giving anything away, and neither were her eyes- she was just standing there, steadily gazing at him, as if she was waiting for him to say something, for him to give her permission. If only his own students were so respectful, Severus thought to himself, trying to make light of it- but the words rang hollow. Truth be told, it was starting to creep him out a bit, setting him on edge.
"Please, Natalia. Pull up a chair, take a seat."
Natalia pulled up a chair, sat down.
"So. Natalia. I suppose you'll want to know the details. Of what I brought you here to discuss, what needs to be resolved."
Natalia nodded.
Irritated, Severus huffed, his nostrils flaring for a moment before he managed to smooth it all away, doing his best to smile it off. Have to make a good first impression- think 'fatherly', think 'paternal'... "Come on girl, speak. What do you take me for- a werewolf? I don't bite, honest."
Snape cringed inwardly at his own lame, pitiful attempt to make a stab at light humor. But it seemed to have had the desired effect. With a flicker of emotion making its way onto her face, Natalia broke her silence at long last.
"I apologise, Professor Snape. But I am still waiting."
Severus sighed heavily, closing his eyes. "Alright. What, may I ask, are you waiting for?"
"For you to answer the question which I asked you. Back on the ship."
"Oh. Right…" Barely managing to stifle the vociferous groan threatening to escape from his throat, Severus held back in spite of the urge to punch himself in the face right now. OF COURSE, that's what she was waiting for, why she'd been quiet all this time. IDIOT!
Natalia continued, tentatively, with her voice wavering slightly. "I asked you, if Igor was…?"
"Yes, I remember, I remember what you asked. And the answer is yes. He is. Dead. And yes, he was." Snape couldn't bring himself to say the other part, not out loud. Not when it had been his own wand, in his own hand, which had done the deed. But he didn't have to. Natalia slumped forward in her chair, stared down at the floor. She made no effort to brush her long, flowing locks of black hair aside as they fell over her face like a veil, concealing most of her face from his view. She knew what the word which he'd left unspoken was. Murdered.
"I'm sorry, I truly am. Now, I imagine that, all of this, has probably come as some shock to you. The Dark Lord's return, your father's death by his command…"
"No, Professor. Not at all."
"…this whole thing with- Wait. What?" Cutting himself off abruptly, Severus blinked, staring at the girl sat in front of him. As she sat up straight again, meeting his incredulous gaze with her own, he could see that, while her eyes looked watery, Natalia's cheeks were still dry- she hadn't shed a single tear. If anything, she looked, and sounded, relieved, as though a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders.
"Well, over the past few months, Lord Karkaroff, Igor, spoke of little else. Even before the Quidditch World Cup, he had started to notice that the faded symbol on his arm- the Dark Mark, as you call it- was steadily getting clearer and clearer. He was becoming more and more paranoid, insisting that the Dark Lord's return was imminent, and that the moment that the Dark Lord did return, he would be a dead man. He tried everything to get rid of it, went through all the darkest magical scrolls he could get his hands on, to try and find a counter-curse. But it was all to no avail. A few weeks ago, in his cabin, he even tried to cleave that whole chunk of his arm off. There was blood everywhere- but no matter how deep he cut, even right to the bone, when he healed it over again, the Mark always returned, darker than ever. It was driving him mad- every time, he would be angrier and more frustrated. He started lashing out more and more, harder and harder, at, well, everything …"
Natalia trailed off, staring down at the desk for a few moments. Severus' eyes narrowed, clenching his fists as he watched her slender fingers subconsciously tracing invisible paths across her face, neck, ribs, stomach, hip. He could see the signs. He'd lived through it himself, after all. Clearly, Igor hadn't just been taking out his pent-up frustration on things, objects. No, he'd violently lashed out at her, at his own daughter. And from the look of it, how many places she'd gone over, it couldn't have just been one isolated incident either- he'd had to have hit her repeatedly, more than once.
Suddenly, he felt a fair bit less mortified about what he'd done, having ended the man whose body was still lying in that improvised coffin, over there in the corner of his study. Making sure that his eyes didn't stray towards it, Severus sat upright, taking a deep breath. "How much do you know?"
A faint trace of a smile flittered across Natalia's lips. "A lot. More than enough. I always knew that he was one of them. From the first time we met, when he first- tested me, to make sure that I could become a suitable wife for his son, he always wanted me to know. That he had been one of the Death Eaters, one of Lord Voldem…"
"STOP! DON'T, finish that word…!" Natalia stopped abruptly, cut off in mid-speech. Breathing heavily, having leapt from his seat, Severus held his stance for a moment or two, until he was satisfied that she wasn't going to finish uttering the Dark Lord's name. Then, and only then, he let his outstretched wand arm fall, relieved that he hadn't been forced to finish going through the final motion to cast a Silencing Charm on her, but still pissed as hell at how close she'd come to making him do it. "Foolish, foolish girl! When I told you about the Taboo on His name, which part didn't you understand? You must not speak that name, EVER! Is that clear?"
Natalia defiantly glared up at him, the spark of rebellion clearly visible in her eyes when they met his own.
"I understand perfectly, Professor," she said, with her clear, ever-so-slightly accented voice taking on an icy chill. "But I also know that, pronouncing it in the way I did, leaving the 't' silent, the Taboo would have had no effect. That difference in pronunciation was one of the main reasons why France, Italy, and the Iberian region, escaped so lightly last time. I know that this was the critical reason why Lord Vold's supporters in these regions never managed to reach the levels of organisation and effectiveness that his supporters achieved in his main power bases, such as Britain, Scandinavia, Eastern and much of Central Europe. Without the Taboo to aid them, their raids and attacks were far less effective, making it far easier for their Aurors to protect people, and to collect sufficient evidence for magical governments' Hit-Wizards to identify Death Eaters and orchestrate counter-raids…"
"Enough! Alright, alright…!" Snape interjected, cutting her off in the middle of her positively Granger-esque lecture. "Very well- it would indeed appear that your assertion wasn't merely arrogant bravado, and that your knowledge on those matters is, shall we say, adequate. Tell me, what do you know of myself?"
"Well, Professor Snape, only what Igor told me of you. Which was quite a lot. And while some of what he spoke of you may not have been true, I know now that some of it most certainly was. When you did cast that spell which summoned the Dark Mark, that was when I no longer had any doubt. You're one of his Dark Lord's followers too, aren't you? A Death Eater."
Natalia's attention turned to his arm, towards the place where she knew that, beneath his black robes, the taint of the Dark Mark had been permanently etched into his flesh. But there was no fear in her voice, or in her expression; she merely seemed mildly disappointed, no more concerned about it than one might have been about being caught in a heavy shower.
Brushing off a non-existent speck of dust from that particular patch on the sleeve of his robe, the closest thing to an admission she'd ever get out of him, Severus shook his head, leaning back into the chair. "Did he also tell you that Albus Dumbledore himself vouched for me personally, in front of the Wizengamot? That, according to Dumbledore's testimony, I'd defected to his side before Lord Voldemort's downfall, at great personal risk, and that I was 'now no more a Death Eater than himself'?"
"Yes, he did. And he told me all about the words which he had with you at the Yule Ball- how, when he first began to contemplate taking flight and going into hiding, even if it would mean abandoning his dream job as the Headmaster of the Durmstrang Institute, he tried to persuade you to help him. But apparently, you were adamant upon remaining here, at Hogwarts, no matter what."
"Of course he told you," Severus groaned, raising a hand to massage his throbbing forehead. Hadn't that blithering idiot been capable of keeping his mouth shut about anything? Anything at all? Besides this little family unit of his, of course. Of course, he'd had to have the misfortune of being saddled with the only secret responsibilities which Karkaroff had ever managed to keep…
"And now, if what you say is true, then he is dead," Natalia said flatly. "And you, you still live. If he had stayed here instead of trying to take flight, sought sanctuary here with Dumbledore as you have, then perhaps he would still be…"
"It wouldn't have saved him," Severus hastily muttered, through clenched teeth, with the weight of the guilt which bore down upon him cranking up a hundred-fold. "After all, Hogwarts is hardly a safe haven. The manner of His return proves that much. That He managed to succeed in snatching The-Boy-Who-Lived, the single most protected individual within these walls, out from right under Dumbledore's nose, to perform the ritual by which he restored himself… No. Karkaroff wouldn't have been any safer from the Dark Lord's wrath here than anywhere else. Wasn't, any safer…"
"Professor Snape. You know, don't you? You know how he died."
"Anyway, to the matter at hand. I believe that I was the very last person who saw your father, Igor Karkaroff, alive. In this very room, as a matter of fact. And one of the very last things that Igor did before he died, was to arrange that full custody of you, and your sister-in-law, Anastasia, would be signed over to me when he met his end. I swore an unbreakable vow with Igor, signed a contract which we both sealed with blood magic. Then, at thirteen minutes past midnight last night- less than five minutes later- that contract confirmed that Igor Karkaroff had left the ranks of the living. And at that moment, with the preconditions met, the magicks of the contract came into effect, and you and your sister were officially signed over into my custody."
"Professor Snape. You know, don't you? You know how he died."
"Anyway, to the matter at hand. I believe that I was the very last person who saw your father, Igor Karkaroff, alive. In this very room, as a matter of fact. And one of the very last things that Igor did before he died, was to make the arrangements to ensure that you, and your sister-in-law, Anastasia, would be taken good care of, in the event of his passing. To that end, I swore an unbreakable vow with Igor, signed a contract which we both sealed with blood magic. Then, at thirteen minutes past midnight last night- less than five minutes later- that contract confirmed that Igor Karkaroff had left the ranks of the living. And at that moment, with the preconditions met, the magicks of the contract came into effect. You and your sister were officially signed over into my custody."
Now, there was a proper reaction. Natalia gasped, her eyes widening as the realisation hit home. He'd been expecting this sort of reaction when he told her, of course he had- still, it didn't make witnessing it any easier…
"So you see, Natalia, you and Anastasia are Karkaroffs no longer- now, you are Snapes. Or Princes. I'm not sure, but you should both be able to claim my pure-blood matrilineage; I should be able to, tweak things a bit, so that you're listed in Hogwarts' and the Ministry of Magic's records as a Prince rather than a Snape, along with your sister-in-law. That should help, should raise a few fewer eyebrows, draw far less attention, keep the two of you safer..." Oh great, now I'm rambling. Zipping his lips, Severus gathered his thoughts, forced himself to turn his attentions back to the visibly shaken girl, still sitting in front of his desk in stunned silence.
At long last, though, she managed to snap out of it. Shaking her head for a few moments, either to try and clear her head or in denial, Natalia glanced back up at him, her jet-black eyes asking a thousand-and-one questions all at once. "I- I see. So, you are to be our new Patriarch?"
"Yes. And I swear, on my honour, that I will do everything in my power to protect the two of you, to keep you safe from harm and do the right thing by you and Anastasia."
The words just spilled out of Severus' mouth, without a second thought, and he let them. He meant it all, he truly did- he owed this girl, and her sister-in-law, that much at the very least. And from the look of it, he'd said the right thing. Natalia fumbled for her handkerchief, yanked it out and furiously rubbed away at her glistening eyes with it, just about managing to keep the tears at bay. When she pulled it away, her eyes were still wet, with a decidedly raw, pinkish hue, but for the first time, he could see something shining dimly in those jet-black irises of hers.
"T-Thank you… Professor? What would you have me address you as? My Lord? Master…?"
Severus smirked, genuinely this time, barely managing to supress a little chuckle. "Egad, please don't. I'm no 'Lord', not yet at any rate, and you're no house-elf. 'Mr Snape' should suffice perfectly well for the time being, thank you very much."
"Mr Snape, then." Natalia smiled, rising from her seat to stand, and offering a little half-curtsy. "If I may…?"
"Oh, of course, go ahead." Getting up, pulling out his wand again, Severus set about deactivating the wards on the door. "They should be serving breakfast in the Great Hall around by now. Might as well head up there myself, get a bite to eat…"
"…there is one last thing, which I want to ask you- when you last saw Igor, when you signed this contract with him, and he signed us over to you, just before he was- before he met his end. How did he seem, at that time? How do you feel he felt? About us?"
Taken aback by the unexpected question, out of the blue, Snape struggled to come up with an answer. "He… Well, it's hard to say, but with regards to the two of you? He seemed- calm. Perhaps even contented. At peace, knowing that he'd done the right thing by you."
"Oh. Right." The smile on Natalia's face vanished. Without another word, she turned away, pulled the door open, and was gone. Perplexed, Severus watched her leave, deep furrows creasing his forehead. What in Salazar's name had that been about? What the hell had happened...?
A/N- The thing is, RaeRae- the Killing Curse may be listed as an Unforgivable by the MoM, but it's also paradoxically the only canonical spell which offers an instantaneous, completely painless death, and as such, the most humane and ethical lethal spell which exists. Were there any nicer, less Unforgivable lethal alternatives?